The Unknown X
Author's Note Okay, stop judging my writing. I meant in a judgmental way. I mean, if you're trying to decide if you like it, then by all means. But like . . . stop judging it. Anyway, this is so crappy because ugh my writing is really out of practise since I haven't done any serious writing since NaNo, so I'm suuuuuper out of it and I don't generally write fanfiction involving dragons and there is literally no plot and I tried to loop in a central theme but somehow that got lost just like my sanity, so here we are. STOP BEING JUDGMENTAL. Additionally, I typed it up on Google Docs so I could edit it, but that wasn't really cooperating when I pasted it like it normally does (see below) and I'm not quite sure why, so the below version is really weird and gross and unformatted and all my beautiful indents disappeared . . . idk why. Which is why, for the sake of convenience, and saving your eyes from the inevitable pain that abounds (no, not just my horrible writing) I have provided a PDF which will hopefully work, and in the event that it doesn't, I have also provided a link to the original Drive file which you can access anonymously or logged in, as well as comment on if you want. See, I plan. Drive file PDF file The Unknown X The matter of a few minutes between the hatching of you and your sister can make a huge difference in your relationship. Any time difference in hatching can create a void that cannot and never will be filled, mostly because both of you are too proud to concede to the other. But as soon as we could comprehend a common language, there was one rule, which was to, under no condition, be violated. It wasn’t even a spoken rule. It was just there. An implied rule. It was even agreed between me and my sister without saying. She was the heir to the throne. Unchallenged. My mother laid only two eggs, not entirely caring about my father since apparently neither of them got along well and he left, the eggs turned out to be female, and being the pacifist she was, she intended to live out her life peacefully until she died and expected that I would not challenge my sister to the throne or cause a war like the last one. I was merely the back-up. My existence then and now is to ensure that should my sister abdicate under pressure (though I wouldn’t expect it) or die without eligible heirs from her line, I can step in and rule as the SeaWing queen. My mother also has sisters. But she gets along with Auklet and Tsunami, and neither of them care to rule. Yes. My oldest aunt happens to be one of the legendary dragonets of destiny named in the prophecy of the last war. She tells me that she doesn’t want to be the queen because she’d never have the courage and strength to rule like my grandmother. I don’t believe it, but she says killing dragons infects you. “Just look at your mom,” she said once, when I asked her why she didn’t want to be the queen. Being the oldest surviving heir who had also taken part in ending the war, when Queen Coral died, the SeaWings were more than willing to throw themselves at her feet. But she’d rejected it and told Anemone to take the crown. “She’s an animus, you know. Blister egged Coral onto allowing her to train her animus powers, but you know the story of Albatross,” Tsunami added, rolling her eyes, “they were going to let your mom get possessed because of a war. She accidentally - accidentally! - killed a dragon.” My eyes widened when she said that. “To be fair, he was practically throwing himself at us like a total creep.” I don’t quite trust Tsunami, because she’s a bit of a melodramatic dragon, and she lives far away on the mainland with a bunch of NightWings and RainWings, so maybe she’s been a bit corrupted by peace talk or something. Auklet has no desire to become queen either. Or maybe she does and she’s just being passive-aggressive. It’s hard to tell. Anyway, the bottom line is, Nerida is the heir to the throne and the kingdom’s holy lady and saviour, and I’m her understudy. X. Yeah, my name is X. Well, actually, it’s Xiu. Anemone says it sounds exotic. Sometimes she sounds a little crazy. I mean, Nerida got a name that’s easy to pronounce, and bam, my name is some weird three letter thing with more vowels than consonants? Xiu? You can see why I abbreviated it to X. Having an older sister can make a huge difference in your mood and general attitude about life, too. Her goal has always been to live life to the fullest. Mine has forever been to gain more influence than her, rank higher, and do better in general. She has nothing to worry about. No siblings to live up to or anything. All she has to worry about is trying to look pretty so the SeaWings don’t think a piece of blue seaweed is ruling them. Other dragons (mostly just my aunts and mom and half the council) tell me that I don’t need to be as pretty as Nerida or as smart as her or as influential or whatever, because there’s nothing that says I should. But if you’re a younger sibling, we all know that it’s a thing to be better than your sister or brother. It’s practically your life goal. I have only been a dragon for seven years, but that’s not going to stop me from sticking my snout into Nerida’s business. “X, move your tail over.” Speaking of Nerida. “Pearl and Xandra will be over in a minute.” Pearl is the head of treasury on Anemone’s council. Xandra’s her apprentice or assistant and an expert in gems and jewels. We used to be friends. Of course, until Xandra decided her status as assistant and the three years she had on Nerida and me automatically made us too shoddy for her liking. Funny, considering she’s actually the one born to the lower-downs and Nerida and I are of royal blood. They’re supposed to be coming over because Anemone has decided it’s time for Nerida’s and my debut. Our first real public appearance in front of all the SeaWings. She says since neither she nor Tsunami got a real one, she wants to give us what she could never have. But let’s be real here. Nerida will receive the applause, and I’ll receive the polite smatterings of applause that are probably from dragons hired by someone on the council. (To be fair, it’s not Nerida’s fault. My mother’s not horrible either. Being a younger sibling herself, she pats me on the back. But things turned out okay for her. And Nerida thinks she gets it, but she really doesn’t.) Pearl is actually a very sociable and pretty dragon, made up of hundreds and possibly thousands of perfectly shaped and buffed aquamarine scales and a handful of sparkling ones, and perfectly shined talons and the prettiest green eyes I’ve ever seen. She’s friendly and if I had to pick one dragon to be my friend, it wouldn’t be Nerida, it’d be Pearl. “Hello, you two,” she says, punctuating her Aquatic with gestures. At least five years our senior, she can talk to us like a good friend while still remaining in total control and making that part obvious. “So, your mom wants me to make you two look good for the debut . . . I brought some jewelry that will need to be worn because I am definitely going to make you two look gorgeous and perfect and fit for the throne. Nerida, Xandra will work with you because, let’s be honest, I’m too lazy to find a colour that will match your scales perfectly.” I stick my tongue out at Nerida. It’s a private victory that few will ever understand. “X, I found you something you might like very much,” Pearl continues, rambling on in a way that’s not annoying and merely fills a silent lack of flashing stripes that any other dragon would feel compelled to fill. “This necklace is made from pure silver, opal beads from the mainland, and pearls buffed by dragon scales. I’ve seen your crown that you get to wear and it looks fabulous with this necklace, so I’m insisting that you wear this. Nerida, I’m afraid I couldn’t find anything that would match you in store, so that’s what Xandra’s here for. X, you’re all set to go.” Pearl clasps the necklace around my neck, winding the loose beads artfully around my horns. “Do you like it?” “Very much so,” I reply politely. “Thank you.” “Then I look forward to seeing you in a few days,” Pearl gestures, unwinding the beads. She pools the necklace in my talons. “Keep that safe. Wear it all day if you want, but don’t lose it. I’ve gotta be off. There’s a meeting.” I spend the rest of the morning slumped in the corner of the cave, watching bitterly as Xandra produces a multitude of possibilities for Nerida to choose from, because she’s the one who will be needing the most influence and power over an entire kingdom. ♀ Since the raid on the Summer Palace during the last war, the place has been repaired. It’s still lush and beautiful and has the pavilion extending beyond the water. Tsunami says it was even prettier back before it was attacked. I can believe her. I almost never get the opportunity to come up to the Summer Palace, either. It’s not the sort of place I generally go to. I’m too lazy to swim up, and I’m fairly sure Nerida is, too. There’s the added obstacle of random SeaWing commoners recognising you. “You look pretty, X,” Nerida says, grinning at me over Pearl’s shoulder as she winds my necklace around my horns again. I flash a few stripes in annoyance. “Thanks,” I respond, faking a smile. “You do, too. In fact, I - “ “ - think she’s gonna get a bunch of males tailing after her?” Pearl finishes, falling into a gossip mode. “Definitely.” “No, I was going to say she looked like she was the actual queen, but I guess that works too.” I ignore the sting that comment left. Again, it’s no one’s fault. It just bothers me. It hurts, like no one thinks I’m capable of attracting my own amount of attention. (I’m really not.) “They’ll love you.” “If anything, they’ll love you,” Nerida says. “You’re all blue and pretty and stuff. I’m a weird colour.” I feel a slight blush heating my face. I can’t tell if Nerida is lying to me with that or if she really means it. But if she really does mean it, it’s a first. “But you’ll be the queen,” I whisper under my breath. “Come on, X,” Nerida says, slumping. “You get to swim around all free without having to run a kingdom. I have to actually do stuff. I have to make a difference in this place. I’m missing out on more than you think.” “I thought you wanted to be the queen. Dragons adore you.” “Maybe I will be the queen and like it. Maybe I won’t. It’s hard to say.” ♀ “Oh, look at that dragon,” Nerida whispers to me. We’ve been standing and waving our talons for the last ten minutes, and to be quite honest, it’s getting boring and my arms are tired. “He’s not so bad.” “Idiot,” I hiss back, out of the corner of my mouth, “he’s standing next to Tsunami, and you know what that means.” Nerida’s jaw drops open and her eyes practically fall out of her head. “That’s Riptide?” “Shut up and close your mouth,” I say. “It looks weird.” I shift my gaze back and forth and nudge her with my tail. “Look at that one.” “Oh, he’s a looker.” Nerida smirks at me and we both turn our heads slowly, trying to look like we’re looking at everyone but the dragon I just spotted. “He’s following the guard, too,” I tell her. “And he’s armed with the spear.” “You’re kidding me,” Nerida says. “You found a nice dragon. He’s in the guard. And he’s not an old dragon. And it’s the guard following Tsunami!” Typically, all the dragons in the Royal Guard following Anemone, Auklet, or Tsunami are all the super high-ranking dragons. They’re all these old, so-called war-aged dragons that saw the start of the war and the end of it. Occasionally there’s the over-achieving one we see in the guard parade every so often who’s all young and somehow made it into the higher ranks, but a lot of those tend to be legacy dragons who were originally trained. It’s very rare if there’s a dragon that has no military history in the upper ranks. A sudden piece of coral comes flying at Nerida and me from somewhere in the Pavilion. Nerida sees it before me and pushes me to the side with her tail before flattening herself against the floor. The guard behind us releases a confused murmur. I pick up the coral in my talons and block out the sound of the squadron leader issuing some orders to go find the assailant, turning it over and over in my claws. My mother pales in comparison to the already bright pavilion. Tsunami says something in her ear and gestures quietly at the guard behind her and Riptide. “The dragon’s coming,” Nerida says. Her eyes are twinkling. Mischievous. Jealousy washes over me, growing in my heart and spreading out, knotting my stomach, tensing my tail and limbs. I know what happens now. Nerida says something, the dragon won’t stop looking at her, and before you know it, they’ll be laughing like they’ve been educated together, even though Nerida and I were educated separately from the rest of the SeaWing dragonets. “Princess Nerida,” he says, his head sinking into a bow. “Princess Xiu.” “Call me X, please.” Three moons. That name. “Princess X.” He looks at us. “I have been instructed to be your guard while your guard is tracking your perpetrator. I’m supposed to be taking you back to the Deep Palace.” “Only one of you?” Nerida asks sceptically. “The others are of high importance to the queen. She doesn’t want them leaving Tsunami or Riptide.” “You’re not considered important?” I say. The jealousy eating at me slowly dissolves, replaced by something else. Sympathy. No, not sympathy. Empathy. “You’re part of Tsunami’s guard.” The dragon looks mildly uncomfortable. “I’m supposed to escort you back to the Deep Palace,” he repeats. “Queen Anemone says she will schedule another visit soon with the two of you. After you.” “So, what’s your name?” Nerida asks, slipping into the gestures that I can only associate with her being good-old-sociable-flirtatious-likeable-Nerida once we’ve gone underwater again and are almost halfway back to the palace. The dragon hesitates, like he doesn’t think he should be speaking. “My name is Avon. My parents were in the Royal Guard before me.” He stops again, a fleeting moment of pain flashing across his face and trickling through his scales. Trailing slightly behind him and Nerida, I can see the tension build in his tail and then relax as if it’s just drained out. “My mother was named River. She was a special squadron leader that died in SkyWing captivity. My father was named Delmar and died of SandWing poison in his veins a few days before the war ended.” Nerida seems mildly uncomfortable, and I feel the same. Avon sounds as though he’s handled the losses well. He sounds very calm and collected. “Have you got any siblings?” I add, trying to change the subject to something where I could at least sound a little sensitive. “According to my father, I have a younger sister.” Avon pauses. “He says he doesn’t know if I’m alive. All he knows is that she was hatched in captivity and that if my mother was faithful to him, she named the dragonet Ea.” Great. Another older sibling. An even better reason for Nerida to practically fall over herself in an effort to flirt with Avon. I don’t understand why she’s social. How can a dragon be so . . . naive? Her greatest worry is having too much power as the queen and not having any heirs. But there are so many issues out there! How come male SeaWings automatically have legacy benefits when they get in the guard, that’s what I’d like to know. And the whole saga that started the war, there’s a problem. We stop outside the Deep Palace, and Nerida traipses inside automatically with a toss of her head and complains something about it being too cold or whatever outside. “She’s really a dragon,” Avon gestures mildly, looking at her retreating form, lashing her tail back and forth. I roll my eyes. I’m not looking at his face, but something tells me he’s in love with her from talking to her for five minutes. “Yeah, she also changes the dragon she has a crush on every two days, so don’t get ahead of yourself,” I say, flashing my stripes in a ripple down my back. Avon jerks his head to look at me and smiles a bit. “She’s got a lot of personality.” I shake my head and gesticulate wildly in the air, trying to make my point. At this point, it’s not jealousy. Avon seems like a nice dragon, and he doesn’t know Nerida. Nerida is one of those dragons that, being the queen’s youngest daughter, can make your life miserable if she so much as doesn’t like you. She exploits what power she has. I’m surprised Anemone hasn’t noticed it. Or maybe she has, being a dragon with animus powers. Maybe she’s just giving Nerida the benefit of the doubt. “She just talks a lot. All the things she talks about all are so . . . shallow. Just today, she told me her problem was having too much power resting in her talons and being a weird colour,” I add, talon-quoting. “If you lived with her every day, you’d see what I mean.” Avon tips his head to the side. “She says you’re a weird colour?” “No, she said she’s the weird colour.” “Good, because I don’t think you’re a weird colour.” Avon shifts his gaze. I can tell he’s looking at my snout. It’s a trick I learned from Tsunami, and the oldest trick in the royal family of dragons. Dragons think you’re looking at them when you look at their snout. The only reason I can tell is because Xandra does it all the time. “I think you’re a very pretty dragon. Maybe we can be friends.” I widen my eyes and glare at him as sharply as I can, frowning. “We can be friends?” I snort, my gestures getting faster and my stripes glowing more brightly. “Why? Because I’m a pretty dragon?” I draw myself up a little further. “Or because you’re trying to get to Nerida. You’re trying to get to Nerida, aren’t you!” Avon looks mildly alarmed at my outburst. Something tells me to stop, but I can’t. This has always happened, and I can’t control myself. “I’m not just here so that dragons can think I look pretty. Queens don’t hold the power because they’re pretty. I am not a princess because I am pretty. I might be the second-born dragon, but I am not just pretty. No princess is just pretty.” I step closer. “Additionally, if you’re trying to compliment me in order to get to Nerida, that’s not what I’m here for. I refuse to be connected to my sister. We’re separate dragons and just because Nerida is the heir to the throne doesn’t mean I’m any less important!” “That’s . . . not what I intended to mean,” Avon says, gesturing slowly, as if a haphazardly placed talon will detonate. “I genuinely do want to be friends with you.” He looks back and forth. “Nerida seems like a nice dragon, but . . . like you mentioned, she’s a little shallow. I don’t really have friends my age. The dragons in the guard are not the most sociable of dragons. There’s a lot of things I would like to talk to other dragons about, but they’re not really interested, and as much as it would be interesting to get to know Nerida, I don’t think she’d care as much as you.” Avon breaks into a smile, his gestures getting more free and casual. “You just told me off for acting as though appearance is the defining feature for dragons.” I soften a bit, look back and forth, and unwind the necklace from my horns, pooling the jewellery in Avon’s open claws. “Come back in a few days. Show the guards the necklace, and say you think it belongs to Princess Xiu. Don’t say X. They’ll probably let you through, and if not, ask if they can call me up. Then we can talk some more.” “Thank you, X,” Avon says, holding the necklace in one talon and flashing his stripes slowly. “Thanks, Avon,” I reply, turning my back on him. Nerida demands to know where I’ve been when I finally come into the Palace. “Talking to Avon,” I say, smiling dreamily. It is possibly the first time I have ever spotted a fleeting look of jealousy on Nerida that any dragon could recognise. Category:Fanfictions Category:Content (Waterdrops)